Asked what would most likely send a government off the rails, one-time UK PM Harold McMillan is reported to have answered, “Events, my dear boy, events.”
Take note: what’s Potus fear the most?
Misdeeds by dissidents?
Nope! Let’s be clear: his greatest fear?
Events, my dear … events.
Need Trump beware the Koch-choked air
his laissez faire augments?
You heard it here: What checks his cheer?
Events, my dear … events.
Apologize does Trump for lies,
for fake news he invents?
Nope! What’s he do when day is through?
He vents! Mon Dieu: he vents:
“So sad” (Trump tweets) “how Congress meets,
advises and consents.”
Still, worse than they? His tweets might say:
“Events, okay? Events.”
What spawns Trump’s bane? More children slain
by ISIS malcontents?
Though feared, by fa-a-ar more fearful are
events, Akbar … events.
What scares the pants off Potus? Rants
by former presidents?
Nope! Worse than those, he duly knows:
events, my bros … events.
What fans Trump’s fright ’round three at night?
The ninety-nine percents? That mob he’ll bear. His bigly scare?
Events, mes frères … events.
So: what might you do to undo
the troubles Trump foments?
This message send when you attend
events, my friend, events:
Till Donald pivots or relents,
till lui-même he reinvents;
till less psychosis he presents,
till allies’ ties he re-cements;
until he vaults the White House fence
and deeds the place to VeePee Pence;
until, in short, Trump shows some sense,
support all anti-Trump events!
NASA is looking at boosting its brand by selling naming rights to rockets and spacecraft and allowing its astronauts to appear in commercials and on cereal boxes.
Alas, we once were glamorous—
The stuff we had was right.
But cuts began to hammer us—
We’re in financial plight.
Though formerly we always thought
That ads would be a no-go,
We now admit we might be bought,
So please submit your logo.
For any product, we’ll be there
To make your message soar—
And help your brand go boldly where
No brand has gone before.
Though we love tax cuts for the rich,
His toxic character’s a bitch.
While we applaud deregulation
To screw the workers of our nation
And foul the water and the air,
His ignorance makes us despair.
With his racism we’d be cool
If he weren’t such a reckless fool.
He’s a dictator wannabe
Defined by amorality.
We’re the non-crazy GOP.
Trust us, we’ll head off World War III.
“By calling Sessions a dumb Southerner, Trump has done the impossible.”—Issac Bailey, CNN
So Donald Trump with his big mouth
Has managed to piss off the South.
The South which gladly gave their votes,
Dismissing all those Twitter quotes.
The South which always had his back
And never failed to cut him slack.
Ignoring every single fault,
They loved the total Trump gestalt.
Their anti-immigration cry?
“Let’s build the wall, let’s raise it high!”
But now he may have jumped the shark
With that “Dumb Southerner” remark.
It’s hard to say, it’s just September,
But will they dump him come November?
“Ruby red slippers worn by Judy Garland in the movie The Wizard of Oz have been successfully recovered after the shoes were stolen from a Minnesota museum over a decade ago, the FBI announced Tuesday. … There were no finger prints or surveillance video of the theft—all that was left behind was a single red sequin.”—Huffington Post
At a time we need a tonic,
Every prospect looking vile,
The return of two iconic
Souvenirs should spark a smile:
Ruby-sequin-studded slippers,
Which when Hollywood was sweet
Made two blushing Little Dippers
Out of Judy Garland’s feet.
Though of two divergent sizes
(Any shoes may be mismatched)
These inestimable prizes
Had been criminally snatched,
Leaving countless hearts in rubble,
Till last Tuesday when, O my!
Bright as Glinda in her bubble,
Came the the mighty FBI:
With one sequin for assistance
And strategic use of moles,
Those detectives went the distance
Till they found those poor lost soles.
Iterate this all you want if
You are ever sad and blue,
Noting also that the Pontiff
Has had more to bear than you:
As the Church’s shame advances,
There is much he stands to lose;
Though conveniently, Francis
Ditched long since his ruby shoes.
“British and French fishermen have clashed in the Channel, over alleged “looting” of the scallop fishing grounds there by British boats. … The French fishing industry is bound by an agreement not to fish for scallops between May and October, to conserve fish stocks.” — BBC
In trawler and in shallop we’ve pursued the precious scallop,
Chief ingredient of our Coquille St. Jacques;
But if you make your mission messin’ with our humble fishin’,
You limey bastards better watch your backs!
We shun those who are selfish when it comes to nettin’ shellfish,
When we’re limited to fishing by the book;
Those Brits who hate this ban’ll simply sail across the Channel,
But we won’t float there helplessly and look.
We’re pissed off—with good reason—for you ruthlessly can seize on
Technicalities that let you grab our stocks,
We’ll just see how well you get on, and how much you get your net on,
When we’re ramming you and pelting you with rocks!
We’ll gladly make a scene if it will guard our French cuisine;
We’ve got the courage and we’ve got the ships.
It’s your manners we deplore; we expected nothing more
From the nation that invented fish and chips.
Google “idiot” and guess whose face
Pops up, in Images, at Number One?
Little Donnie’s! Same with Second Place
As well as Third and Fourth and Fifth. What fun!
Google’s algorithm is to blame.
It does a lot of nifty little things
But can be twisted in a kind of game
Where rings of shifty people pull the strings.
Reddit’s right-wing forum tags nonstop;
On Reddit, smears and lies “are fine to post.”
Bill Clinton, tagged with “rapist,” hit the top
Of Google’s list. “Free speech,” their people boast.
But Little Donnie couldn’t wait to vent,
So even though it’s Reddit’s fault, for Pete’s
Sake, he takes aim at Google with intent
To bomb them to oblivion with tweets.
“An international team of surgeons have started measuring a tiger in India for an artificial paw, thought to be the first attempt in the world to fit one of the animals with a prosthesis. The eight-year-old male named Sahebrao was caught in a poacher’s trap along with his brother six years ago. The older sibling died, but Sahebrao was rescued and taken to the Maharashtra Animal and Fisheries Science University for treatment.”—The Guardian
Tyger Tyger, cross and dour
In the shelters of Nagpur,
What physicians dare apply
To mend thy damaged symmetry?
What brave souls, deserving awe,
Prepared thee a prosthetic paw?
Assign the proper credit to
The Maharashtra Science U:
Theirs was the hammer, theirs the chain—
Or so a poet might explain
The instruments they used to keep
Thy fearful sinews sound asleep;
And when their arts had laid thee flat
Beneath the scan that’s labelled CAT,
It was the Maharashtra crowd
That stitched thee up and did thee proud.
Tyger Tyger now complete
On thy newly-balanced feet,
Did they smile their work to see?
Or run like hell away from thee?
The Daily Mail reports that Jennifer Lawrence is seen reading Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems with her boyfriend; in fact, it turns out to be a $1500 purse in the shape of a book.
How funny you are today Daily Mail
not like Chris Pratt in Passengers
but maybe like Chris Pratt in something else,
before he got buff
where’s Jennifer Lawrence
she’s out reading
American Hustle
meet American Pastoral
hunger games at the hungry i
not that we like poetry (we just need it)
and the little handbag is on the bookshelf
next to the snowglobes
and the succulent plants
and the Oscars
oh god it’s wonderful
to carry a book around
and look smart doing it
but it’s better than a book
because can a book hold your change
i didn’t think so
